Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
N ow, being cooped up in a cabin like this, Grace did not mind. Would she have appreciated it had she not experienced the other? She liked to think she would as she was often wont to steal away to a secluded corner to read at home.
It looked much like a man’s study, walls panelled with wood, windows and space to walk around, and most importantly, there was a shelf of books. That should occupy her for most of the week, and no one would disturb her.
A knock on the door interrupted her perusal of book titles for her reading pleasure.
“Enter,” she called, though she had no idea if she should be answering the door to Lord Carew’s cabin.
It was Paddy with Theodore. Grace smiled. “Did he enjoy his time with the other cats?”
“Hard to say, miss. One of them hissed something fierce, but they always do that when there’s someone new. The other one seemed to take to him just fine.”
“Thank you for helping me with him.”
“It’s no trouble, miss. It’s better than some of my duties, which the Cap’n says I need to return to now.” He looked over at the trays, then went to stack the dishes and proceeded to carry them away. “I will come back for ’im when I bring the midday meal,” the boy said wistfully.
“Until then.” She waved, then turned back to the surprising collection of novels. It was another unexpected facet to Carew. Many of them she had read before, but she never minded re-reading them. There was always some new detail she had missed the time before that would delight her.
“Oh! Frankenstein !” But when she pulled the first volume from the shelf, it was brand new and had not yet been cut. She inhaled the scent with the awe and wonder the new leather deserved.
“That’s wholly disappointing though,” she said to no one in particular. She would not ask to christen the book herself, though it would kill her not to read it. But she could never be so bold. Mayhap it was a gift for the sister he had mentioned, or his mother.
Instead, she selected one of the Radcliffe novels, then looked around for where to sit. There was the table with benches that were nailed to the floor, the bed tucked into an alcove in the wall that she dared not touch. It must belong to the Captain and ’twould be far too intimate. There was a narrow seat beneath the window that was just wide enough for her. “That will have to do. In fact, it looks like it was made for this very thing.”
Theodore was exploring the new environs, and she left him to it. “This is much, much better, is it not?” she said to him, though he only responded by pouncing on something Grace could not see. Perhaps she could find something to fashion a toy for him. Joy was always making things to entertain Freddy and now the kittens, so perhaps Paddy could help her find something for Theo.
Grace kicked off her slippers and climbed onto the seat, and for a while, became distracted by the view. Before the wedding, she’d never been on a sailing ship or the sea and never before where she couldn’t see land at all. There was water as far as the eye could see.
Birds were gliding out over the open water, then would swoop down and come up with a fish in their mouths. This made her contemplate the majesty of Creation and the circle of life. She never really liked to think about the fact that some animals ate others to survive, which always led her to examine her own diet, which was laden with meat. She could not think on it. Now she needed a distraction.
If she weren’t so concerned about what would happen to her or how her family must be worrying, she might take a bit more enjoyment in this adventure, but hers was not an adventurous spirit.
Even though she was never one to hold a grudge, she was entitled to be upset about this situation. First, her family had forgotten about her—namely Joy. Then she was surprisingly angry at Carew, and her anger made her shockingly bold. Faith had been bold because she’d had to be. Patience was both bold and adventurous. Grace was more like Hope, except Hope had always wanted a grand marriage and now she had it. What did Grace want? Happiness, peace, tranquillity? Love? Of course she wanted to be loved, but that was a vague notion, and it was difficult to place a finger on what she wanted.
As she opened the book and began to read, Grace smiled when she read the name Theodore. Joy loved Miss Radcliffe’s books, very likely because her governess had read them to her while she was recovering from her injury. She had named each of the kittens for her respective heroes and heroines.
Theodore was not particularly the sharpest, smartest hero, nor did he win the heroine in the end, but he still had some redeeming qualities. Time would tell if the nomenclature fit the little feline. Thus far, he was quite adorable and cuddly.
“I would not mind my own hero with such qualities,” she mused. None of Radcliffe’s heroes particularly appealed to Grace, but the stories were entertaining, nonetheless.
She became so lost in the story that she did not notice the hours pass, and the knock on the door surprised her.
Jumping to her feet, she attempted to straighten herself as best she could. It was only the cabin boy with an afternoon meal.
“Afternoon, miss,” Paddy said as he entered the room and set down the tray. His eyes immediately searched the cabin for Theo, who was sleeping on the bench, stretched out on his back like he had not a care in the world.
“You may pet him if you like,” Grace encouraged. She could only imagine this young boy did not have many small pleasures, working as he did.
He smiled shyly, then crept gingerly over to the cat, as if anything would wake him.
“How are things on deck?” she asked, curious for some hints of life outside the cabin. She had heard various bumps, creaks, and voices, but had no idea what or who they belonged to.
“Nothing special. Just the usual, though the quartermaster says the weather is a-changin’.”
“How so? Is there going to be a storm?” Her eyes darted to the window and she could see a few clouds forming, but that was not so unusual for an afternoon in England. If they were even near England. She assumed Ireland’s weather was much the same, but perhaps it was different on the sea.
“I’m not certain, but I trust the quartermaster. He can feel it in his bones, ’e says. ’E’s been on a ship his whole life.”
Grace nodded because she was unsure of what to say to that. One of their old retainers back at Halbury Hall had predicted cold weather in much the same way.
“What happens if there is a storm?”
The boy shrugged as he stroked Theodore’s fur. “Depends. Sometimes they make me go below if it’s bad enough.”
The thought of the rough crew caring enough about this young boy to ensure his safety warmed her heart. Perhaps they were not so bad after all, even if the sight of them did scare her.
“Do you like to read a lot?” He pointed to the book she had left on the seat.
“It is one of my favourite things in the world.”
“The Cap’n makes us learn our letters, me and Barry. That and we ’ave—have—to learn to speak English proper.”
Grace smiled as he struggled with his aitches. She assumed Barry was another young boy. She did not know why Carew’s insistence on education should surprise her so much, but it did. It was not common for the lower classes to read or write, but Westwood also did the same with his servants.
“He says it will give us better ’tunities later.”
Grace smiled at the boy’s efforts to use the big word. “Indeed, I believe he is correct in that.”
“I best get back to my duties,” he said with a heavy sigh.
As he turned to leave, Grace remembered something. “Paddy, would you see if you can find me a stick, a piece of string about this long,” she held her arms out wide, “and perhaps a feather?”
The boy looked at her as if she were daft before remembering himself. Then she could see him trying to think of where to find those things. “I think I can. The string will be the easiest,” he remarked, and then seemed to hurry away with excitement.
Grace laughed as she set to her meal of a simple stew with bread. The boy’s exuberance reminded her of Joy.
Ronan watched the quickly changing skies and cursed. He’d intended to bring Miss Grace on deck so she could have some fresh air and stretch her legs, and now there was not much time. He turned and hurried towards his cabin, which was odd in and of itself because he never hurried anywhere.
He opened the door without knocking because, well, it was his cabin and he could not imagine Grace Whitford doing anything in there he’d need to knock for.
It took him a moment to find her, but she was sleeping on the narrow window seat, book open on her chest and the kitten in the bend of her legs. It was a rather charming scene if one were in the mood to be charmed. Ronan was not.
“What am I to do with you, Grace Whitford?” he murmured. His normal inclination was to flirt and tease women, which he meant absolutely nothing by. For some reason, Grace did not inspire flirtatious behaviour in him, though he could not say why. Although now that he knew what it was to anger her, the devil in him would very likely stoke that fire within her.
He stroked a finger down her cheek in an attempt to wake her, which was also playing with fire, but that porcelain skin was much too tempting to resist. She started a little, but did not wake. He bent over and began to whisper nonsensical Irish in her ear. Her face turned towards him, bringing their noses within an inch of each other, then her eyes opened wide.
They watched each other for a moment, blue eyes to blue, before she finally asked. “What are you doing?”
“I was trying to wake you.”
She set the book aside, then sat up and, gloriously dishevelled, moved the cat from her lap.
“To what purpose?”
“To escort you above deck before the weather changes.”
Apparently, that was the correct answer, for she smiled at him and slipped her feet into the dainty little slippers that women used as an excuse for footwear.
She stood too quickly and wobbled, then the boat lurched and threw her into the table. He only partially caught her, softening the landing a little. The feel of her in his arms was a bit too tempting for his own comfort. She was certainly more luscious than he would have expected by her slim frame, and the faint scent of lilacs about her was strangely alluring on her.
Thankfully, she seemed unmoved, and wholly unaware of his wayward thoughts, which was a very, very good thing.
Promptly, he helped her stand upright. “It takes a while to find your sea legs.”
“Sea legs?”
“Learning to find your balance while the floor moves beneath you. About the time you get used to it, we will be on land and then that will feel strange for a few days.”
Ronan led her through the door to the companionway, then up the ladder to the main deck. Unfortunately, the sky had grown much darker since he’d gone to the cabin.
“It smells like rain,” she said as she held on to the shroud and looked up at the sky.
Ronan had always thought the weather had a smell himself, and had been teased by his sister about it. He was somehow pleased that she thought the same.
“It will rain and hopefully that is all. If you notice, the sails are not full. The wind has stilled and that means we may stop moving.”
Her brow furrowed, then she walked over to the railing and seemed to contemplate his words for a few moments. “Does water ever truly stop moving?”
“Actually, no, but the wind does. We are going against the current, so if there is no wind to harness, we essentially stop.”
“Or get carried backwards by the current?” she asked perceptively.
“We have ways to stop from going backwards, but unfortunately, until the wind picks up, we cannot go forward.”
“How do you sail against the wind?”
“By tacking. You must sail at an angle, then change to the opposite angle then so on and so forth, essentially to go in the direction you wish.”
“Fascinating. I had never really thought about it before.”
“I do not suppose you would have had cause to.”
She humphed grumpily. “Ladies rarely have need to do anything, do they?”
It was hard for him not to smile at her peevishness. Had she always been like this and he had simply never looked? He glanced at her with reluctant appreciation. No, she’d been hiding this side of herself, he was sure of it. Either that or she’d been afraid of him before and no longer was. He was not certain that was a good thing either.
He was pleased by her keen mind. She’d never carried on much conversation with him before. He had not thought her slow, precisely, but had thought she was one of the young, mindless chits that London Society seemed to cultivate.
“What is this?” She climbed up to the quarter-deck and explored while Fergus eyed her warily. Hopefully, Grace did not notice how all of the men were giving her a wide berth. At least no one had spat and crossed themselves where she could see.
There was a loud crack of thunder and the skies opened in a downpour and he hurried her back down the ladder to the cabin. She stopped suddenly in front of him and he barely kept from stumbling into her.
“Oh! I left Theodore up there!”
“Theodore? You mean the cat? It is named Theodore?” he asked scathingly. “What a ridiculous name for a cat.”
“Joy,” she remarked by way of explanation, but was already hurrying past him back up to the deck.
Ronan looked skyward, then followed her. The last thing he wished to do was drown in the rain over a rat catcher. He’d left Fergus watching the wheel—not that they were going anywhere—and he was protected from the rain by his oilskin. Chasing a kitten was not calling to him as staying warm and dry in the cabin was.
When they reached the deck, the rain was coming down in heavy sheets that splashed in puddles.
From what he knew of cats, they were self-serving creatures. The kitten was likely smart enough to be hiding somewhere and would not come out until the rain stopped, but Ronan could tell any mention of that fact would fall on deaf ears when he saw Grace searching frantically. She did not even know the ship well enough to search, and the crew was already sour, blaming her for the rain and the lack of wind. It was convenient to forget all of these things happened when she was not on board as well.
In a mood himself, he went to the most likely places for a small rat-sized creature to hide and found him curled up in the middle of a rope, dry underneath an overhang. He scooped the kitten up in his hand and shoved him inside his waistcoat before calling out to Grace. “I have him.”
Speaking of rats, she looked like a drowning one. He took her by the elbow and hurried her back towards the companionway and down to the cabin. He closed the door behind him, then pulled the little feline out of his coat and held him out for her inspection.
“How is he dry?”
“He was napping, blissfully unaware beneath an overhang.”
Suddenly aware that they were both dripping puddles on his rug, he went to the cupboard and began pulling dry clothing out for himself and a flannel for her to wrap herself in.
“Pardon me, but I will go and change in another cabin.”
When he returned, she was still standing there, shivering, wrapped in the flannel he’d given her. She had removed her slippers and put them somewhere to dry, he supposed, but then he cursed himself.
“You have no change of clothes, do you?”
She shook her head as though ashamed. This was going to be a very long week. He went back to the cupboard, desperately searching for something she could change into. He’d never had a female on board for an overnight stay. Occasionally, Maeve would sail with him, but it was always around the bay and back.
If only he had brought her with him this time how different everything might be.
He came back from the cupboard empty-handed. “Let me see if one of the boys has something that might fit you. You may remove your wet things. I promise not to intrude when I return, but you cannot remain like that or you will catch a chill.” He did not wait for her answer but escaped through the door.